


tomorrow's dreams

by Manzanas



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manzanas/pseuds/Manzanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the VMAs, Patrick and Pete fall back into some old habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tomorrow's dreams

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by patrick and pete at the vmas looking like actually boyfriends and lowkey wrecking me
> 
> Bless at my wonderful beta [Sofia](http://hesitantalicn.tumblr.com/) for catching my mistakes and being amazing as usual

Pete’s got Patrick pressed against the hotel door, hands in his hair and a knee between his thighs. Pete’s mouth is latched on the singer’s neck, and he’s doing his best to work all the noises out of Patrick that he knows will makes things just _that_ much hotter, that will give Pete just a bit more edge.

He pauses, lips pressed to the skin just below Patrick’s jaw, and he feels it down to his bones when the other man shivers.

Pete goes to peel off Patrick’s jacket off when he remembers it’s not really _Patrick’s_. He tilts his head slightly, so his mouth rests right against the shell of the other man’s ear, murmuring, “You should keep this. It looks better on you anyway.”

Pete doesn’t have to look, but he knows Patrick is blushing, can feel the heat of it against his own cheek. He smirks, because a lifetime has passed since they first did this, since Pete first looked at Patrick and saw the world, and Patrick really shouldn’t be going tomato red at the slightest compliment anymore.

He slides the blazer the rest of the way off, and considers the series of risks and good fortune that got them to this point.  Somewhere between switching jackets and winning an award, between Pete’s hand on Patrick’s ass on the red carpet and Patrick’s absolute delight at Kanye’s speech, between a heated limo ride and sneaking away from the after party early, Pete somehow managed to convince Patrick to come back to the hotel with him.

It’s been a while, but they fell back into old habits just as easy as they always do, and it wasn’t long before Pete got Patrick in his current position, back to the door and grinding against him.

Hotel sex in general involves a level of chance and ambiguity that doesn’t really suit Pete’s lifestyle anymore, but with Patrick it’s different. It always is. No one will ever have Patrick the way Pete does, will never see the version of him that he gives to Pete when it’s just them in an unfamiliar room in a familiar town.

Once the jacket is off, Patrick brings his hands up, pressing his fingers just on the side of too hard into Pete’s face. He tilts Pete’s head, but there’s no way he’d miss the slight curve of Patrick’s lips before he seals their mouths together. It the hottest thing Pete’s ever experienced, the way confidence manifests itself in Patrick like it never would before. 

Pete breaks the kiss, just for a moment to catch Patrick’s eyes before flicking his own towards the bed. Patrick understands immediately, and maybe it speaks to how well they know each other or maybe it’s just how many times they’ve been in this situation before.

Pete walks himself backwards, clumsy and without proper guidance, but he has no desire to break apart from Patrick. He steps on the singer’s toes twice but all he gets is a muffled complaint against his lips, and Pete takes it as Patrick having just as little desire to let go.

When the back of Pete’s knees hit the bed, he makes an undignified move to scramble back and tug Patrick along with him. They end up with Pete stretched out, Patrick’s weight pressing against him exactly the way he’d been imaging it all night.

Patrick draws back, subtly grinding against Pete’s hips as if he somehow wouldn’t notice. Pete presses back up, and smirks at the way Patrick’s cheeks color, the way he adverts his eyes but doesn’t ease up.

Pete reaches up, tugging at the collar on the v-neck Patrick had changed into for the after party. Patrick takes the hint, lifting his arms as Pete goes to pull the shirt the rest of the way off.

Then Pete just takes a moment to soak in everything before him. Patrick will always be a super pale dude, but Pete loves the contrast of their skin. Loves the way Patrick is smooth in all the places he’s sharp, beautiful in every way that Pete considers himself ugly.

He’ll never convince Patrick to see himself the way Pete does, knows a second before it happens when Patrick goes to cross his arms. Pete just leans up, capturing the singer’s mouth in a kiss. He slides his hand up one of Patrick’s sides, the other going straight to Patrick’s ass.

When he feels that Patrick is properly distracted, he flips them. It’s somewhat clumsy and Patrick almost elbows him in the face, which, not exactly a turn on, but the end result is all that matters. Pete straddling Patrick’s hips, and Patrick: flushed and breathless beneath him.

“Pete—“ Patrick starts, confusion evident in his voice. Pete cuts him off when he presses their mouths back together, but not without some good natured grumbling on Patrick’s part.

When Pete pulls back, it’s only enough to speak, their lips still ghosting against each other.

“Tonight, I’m going to take care of you, okay?” Pete whispers, catching the way Patrick’s eyes widen but not responding.

 He moves away from Patrick’s mouth, leaning down to brush kisses, feather light, against his neck. He can feel the energy from tonight on Patrick’s skin, can taste the hours of tension bleeding out as Patrick relaxes beneath him.

He sits up, working the buttons of his shirt undone as quickly as possible. Patrick lifts an arm to help, but Pete knocks it away. What started as a half-formed idea to get into Patrick’s pants after the show has developed into a need for Pete to get Patrick to realize that this isn’t just getting off for Pete. It’s more than just some post-awards high. He needs Patrick to know that he wants Patrick here with him, that he wants it to be _Patrick_ who shares these nights with him.

Pete doesn’t know why it’s so important, but suddenly it’s all he can think of.

Once unbuttoned, Pete balls the shirt up and throws it behind him, his mouth already on Patrick’s when it hits the floor.

He kisses slow, at first, wanting to draw things out as long as Patrick can stand it. He presses their lips together, but refuses to give pressure. He runs his tongue over the singer’s bottom lip, but won’t let the kiss stray too far from chaste.

He feels a sharp pinch at his side, and is draws back only to find Patrick glaring at him. He raises an eyebrow innocently in response, and couldn’t have predicting Patrick grabbing his face and crushing their mouths together, tugging Pete down and flush against him.

All pretense of slow is thrown out the window as Patrick wraps a leg around Pete’s waist, grinding their hips together without warning. Pete moans into Patrick’s mouth, and this isn’t exactly what he had planned, but he’s always been a fan of improvising.

 He reaches down, practice and familiarity helping him unclasp Patrick’s belt in record time. He brushes his fingers across the waistband of his boxers, can’t help but smirk at the way Patrick’s breath hitches.

His mouth finds Patrick ear again, and he breathes out, “Don’t you get it? The things you do to me. I was ready the leave the moment I saw you in my jacket.”

Pete expects a blush, maybe for Patrick to brush him off likes he always does. Instead, the singer’s eyes meet his, and he replies, “I know the feeling.”

All the breath leaves Pete in a rush, and he can’t help it. He just starts laughing. He buries his face in Patrick’s neck, hot puffs of air leaving him almost uncontrollably.

When he finally calms down, raising his head and looking at Patrick, the other man is just staring amused back at him.

“Ten years,” Pete wheezes out, trying to catch his breath. “You shouldn’t still be able to surprise me.”

Patrick loses any sense of composure in response, and they spend the next few minutes, pressed against each other with Pete’s hand on Patrick’s boxers, laughing and making no attempts at actually having any sex. Pete can’t do this with anyone except Patrick. Doesn’t know how to express all the types of intimacy he needs with anyone but Patrick.

Eventually they’re both breathless and just giggling against each other. Pete find’s Patrick eyes, and he hopes it’s not obvious, hopes Patrick can’t see how hopelessly in love he is with the way they fit together.

Patrick’s answering smile is soft, understanding, and maybe he does know, but maybe it’s okay.

He nudges Pete with his shoulder, pulls Pete out of his own head, and says, “Someone promised to take care of me?”

He shifts as he says the words, and then Pete can feel exactly how interested Patrick still is in their previous affairs.

And just like that, Pete decides to redouble his efforts. He wants Patrick a _mess_ by the end of this.

His hands finds its way back to Patrick’s waistband and he’s undoing the zipper on his dress pants and pressing his palm to Patrick’s dick through his boxers in no time. He thanks God or the VMAs or something that Patrick isn’t wearing his usual tight-ass skinny jeans, and, with Patrick’s help, he slides the pants down Patrick’s thighs and to the floor with ease.

He shifts back up, lips attaching to Patrick’s collar bone without thought. His hand brushes against Patrick’s dick, occasionally pressing down, but not giving any of the pressure Patrick needs, if the noises he’s making are anything to go by.

“Come on, Pete,” Patrick grits out, “get on with it.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” he replies, voice just a little too sweet.

And teasing Patrick wasn’t part of the original plan, but he can’t help the way he wants to watch him squirm. Pete has an energy buzzing under his skin, an uncontrollable desire to claim Patrick as if he would ever let himself be owned by anyone. And maybe make him beg for Pete like he wants _Pete_ and not just what he can give Patrick.

Finally, he reaches inside Patrick’s boxers, curling a hand around his cock and not missing the way Patrick practically sighs in relief.

He starts out slow, just enough pressure to take the edge off but not enough to satisfy. He’s so far off the reservation with his original goal and he isn’t sure what he wants anymore, but he wants Patrick to feel it too.

He wants Patrick just as desperate as him for once.

He picks up the pace, stroking faster and watching Patrick come undone beneath him. His eyes are shut tight, hands gripping at the sheets, hips making aborted little movements like this is enough, but he still wants more.

Pete understands the feeling.

He can’t tear his eyes away from Patrick, doesn’t really want to anyway. He watches as Patrick grows increasingly desperate, small noises transforming to full blown moans as Patrick loses himself further and further under Pete’s care.

When Patrick finally comes, it’s with no sounds at all. And that was surprising the first time, ten years ago in a different hotel room with a different Patrick. But now Pete just expects it.

He pulls his hand out of Patrick’s boxers, wipes his hand on the hotel sheet and doesn’t really give a damn.

Patrick reaches out, maybe to return the favor or maybe just to get Pete to look at him.

Pete can’t. Instead, he just says, “Tonight was about you.”

He rolls off of Patrick, curling up on his side, not bothering with his pants or the covers.

He can feel Patrick staring at him, anticipates Patrick’s slight hesitation before turning off the bedside lamp.

He couldn’t have prepared for when Patrick curls up behind him, stacking their knees and wrapping an arm around Pete’s waist. He wouldn’t have predicted the kiss Patrick places to the back of his neck, gentle and without preamble.

He’s slept curled up to Patrick before, sometimes after sex and sometimes not. He can’t help but marvel at how they still fit together perfectly. More than ten years and lot has changed, but this hasn’t.

Pete sometimes wishes it would.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, kudos, comments  
> find me on [tumblr](http://pavlust.tumblr.com/)


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